


Restless Nights

by PrincessOfTheDark (FantasyPrincess)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-10-10
Updated: 2012-10-10
Packaged: 2017-11-16 00:29:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/533474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FantasyPrincess/pseuds/PrincessOfTheDark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rumpelstiltskin makes a deal with his mentor to bring back happiness for just one night before he’s doomed to survive without magic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Night #1

Although the castle was empty, Rumplestiltskin could hear so much activity. Down the hall was an empty pot that sat in a corner. Not since he’d fixed the leak in the ceiling had it been put to any use. Now, he heard it vibrate every time the thunder would crash - Ssshhhraaang! the pot would clatter. In his library, rustled pages from poorly used books droop into sagged positions. Sometimes a book would fall, but that seemed of little consequence. On the outside of the castle somewhere in the dark forest, a hawk made a screeching noise as it looked for shelter from the storm. 

He sat on his bed, angling his face up at the sky considering the movements of the clouds. Stubbornly humming and rubbing his knees together, he began to let his mind drift. Nothing pleased him so much in this room as his bed. It smelled of lilac and clean linen. The feather mattress was something he proudly fluffed every night in an effort to enjoy the most out of his sleep. But tonight the bed, with all its charms and spells, could not provide him the rest he so sorely needed. Even just the sheer thought of lying down in his four poster, redwood, twisted turned canopy bed with it’s gingham curtains and velvety brocade fringe, made him drowsy enough to come in here and take a nap. Lately, it was a battle every night to get to dream again.

He glanced around his enormous room for something to do.

There were so many perfumes on the dresser, he giggled to himself, thinking of creating oils that he could rub into his clothing. The crystals he kept in the cabinet, they had to be drained of their energy before the young woman in the red cape needed them. His face contorted at the thought of working at this time of night.

Or maybe the velvety fabrics he’d thought of replacing would make much better duvet covers. How about the 15 pillows on his bed turned into some kind of secret cave to protect himself until morning from all this routinely ridiculous tedium? 

Of course, there was always the option of hurling his ceramic water basin against the wall that would certain break the monotony. He stood suddenly. “Why can’t I sleep?” he bade the moon.

The inevitable pacing began. The floorboards creaked with his movements even though he only walked on the balls of his feet. He knew why he didn’t sleep; he didn’t want to believe it could affect him this much. It was since yesterday evening, when he learned about the terrible tragedies he’d have to endure to get back his son, Baelfire.

The last thing he wanted was to be trapped in a magicless prison, especially one that he would have to stumble into somewhat willingly at this point so that the Queen would think him powerless. Then there was the curse itself to consider too and what would happen when he’d be powerless for yet another 28 excruciating years. He’d be powerful in the town, of course, have his way all the time, but it wouldn’t be the same as the way he could trick people here. The glee of the take would be gone and the magic would be none existent.

He growled up at the ceiling. He didn’t want this, not this. Not to be alone with his thoughts and no solace among his many trinkets. He tore at the curtain leaving a gash in it as big as his palm.

No one else knew what he would do, of course. He hadn’t let anyone else behind his mask since he’d had Belle here and he didn’t intend to. If there was one thing he’d learned from Belle’s passing, it was to keep your secrets as closely guarded as your desires because that way no one could use them to hurt you.

Rumpelstiltskin didn’t want to think about the woman who'd changed his life. The thoughts came to him regardless, unbidden, unwanted and yet loved. He groaned when he thought of the one kiss they shared – that they would ever share. 

He didn’t want to think about the kiss itself. He didn’t want to remember the soft press of her lips. He didn’t care for the reminder, and then of course the remembered experience of loosing his powers, the warm sensation that was his magic melting away with a strange euphoria he didn’t recognize. "What wicked magic is true love’s kiss," he fretted, burying his face in his pillows. 

His breath caught in his lungs. The feel of her body gently pressed against his when he caught her from that ridiculous ladder. The smell of her, it was in her hair like earth and the musty smell of dried roses.

He could remember all of their last words to each other, all the red-hot anger. His aggressive yearning to get rid of any weaknesses that could bring him to his knees – She exposing him for the monster he truly was, selfish and pained. 

The faultiness of memory made him change the ending a million times. Sometimes he grabbed her and kissed her again and would let the magic melt away along with any hope of finding Bae, sometimes he was careful not to kiss her lips but roamed the rest of her body, sometimes he left first and let her come to him.

His mind began to wonder again.

"How could she love me? When did that happen? Was it when I let her go? But I only did that because I was in love with her and the last thing I wanted was her unhappiness… She wasn’t supposed to come back, she shouldn’t have. If she hadn’t, maybe she’d… still be alive."

But in the moonlight streaming into his chambers, he knew better.

This night as he had many nights before, his body began to respond to his loneliness. His claws racked his chest, stopping at his ribs and examining them as he might imagine Belle would do, seeking out every inch of his flesh she could. Suckling a few fingers and pressing them to his cheeks and ears he imagined her kissing him there over and over again. He would imagine her face, intent on understanding his body and its responses as he bowed his back with the pretend feeling of breasts running nipples down his spine.

He placed a hand on his cold bedpost to steady himself as he kneaded his own stomach, testing and adjusting the strong muscles there. He did it as slowly as he could manage but knowing that she would only be a third as strong as he was made him impatient and press harder. She was underneath him now, pressing against his stomach with her own, hips grinding into the mattress, it’s softness not nearly as soft as his lady-love. He would groan into the pillows he had flung about him and whisper her name is if it could summon her out of the cold grave. 

The first thing he noticed would be the lack of shape – it was all wrong. The light never dims enough to trick him into the falsity of company. Her breasts and solid hips a fading memory in a sea of forever. Nonetheless, his body wouldn’t betray his need, grinding again and again into the fleshy softness of the fabric. 

Eventually turning over onto his back, he would run his hands under his trousers and grab a hold of his candle, working the wick into ecstasy. The head was sore a bit from all of the attention and flourish that was his brash efficiency with self pleasures. He slowly stroked things this time carefully and with interest, really trying to remember how delicate her hands were serving him tea or cooking a roast.

The tugging inevitably became more insistent. Teasing himself with the smallest amount of magic to moisten, warm, titilate, and constrict his candle, he imagined her nether lips pressing in around him. She could be on top right now, writhing and squirming, inching him inside herself as she bowed and cried out in little gasps for him to fill her up. His hero, he thought, straddling the monster, not letting him be his genuine evil self, not letting him be the bad guy anymore and certainly not letting him throw her out. 

Not until she finished her pleasures first. He wouldn’t have had her any other way.

Imagining her wet cloister sucking at him with fever, he would of course release himself into the air like a spray of oil paints onto a canvas. He yelped as his candle lit the room positively on fire, bucking his hips, thrusting into her again and again and her flushed face enjoying all the excitement.

He would look up then and confess his love with his eyes. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered to the forlorn face above him. As he reached to caress her check, his beautiful Belle would fade into nothing, he’d remember that the heat he felt was his own hands, that she was not here and never would be again…

His body shook then with his sobbing and miserable pleas to the night sky. He wished his magic could help his sorrow. So total and absolute was his torture here and to come that nothing seemed to give him pleasure. Nothing, but a remembrance of his auburn angel who had been with him so briefly and so completely even though they never shared a bed. He never felt so weak and helpless as he did now. He never felt this for his wife so very long ago nor had any other women before or since sated him with just their presence in a room the way Belle had. A need he hadn't imagined he'd had before, welled in him. He crushed it down, closing his eyes in silence, his tears finally spent and all his woes staining the bed linens.

Finally, after cleaning himself off and throwing the soiled covers off the bed, as if that was what he’d been waiting for all evening, he would turn onto his side and drift off to sleep to dream of the world without magic.


	2. Night #2

The days leading up to his apprehension were miserable. He hadn’t even made any deals with anyone of consequence, always on the look out for the one that would push him over the edge. He’d already put into motion the best way to get the magic wand from the fairy he’d been stalking. But there was no joy in anything he did and the lack of sleep was beginning to take its toll.

Finally he’d had enough. One night he decided that Magic could help him – just not his own. Anything he did would corrupt the gift of it. So, even though he knew nothing would be permanent, he decided an illusion before he was doomed to a lack of magic could be enough to make him ready to take the plunge.

With a flick of his wrist he stopped the wheel from spinning that very afternoon, unable to contain the desire for companionship or love or just something to take his mind off of the terrible days ahead. He opened up one of his books of spells and read from the inside cover:

“Come to me  
Oh wisp of the wild  
I need your solace  
Come to your child.”

With a pop and a flash of light, a small goblin appeared. Grotesquely angular and a grey sort of smoke black face, she craned her neck to look at him with a sneer. “Rumpelstiltskin! I never thought I’d see you again, sweetheart.”

Rumpelstiltskin grimaced remembering the one and only time previously that he’d called on his Goblin forefathers for help. It was the first time he’d felt weak since becoming the Dark One and this would be the second time. He hated it. He didn’t want to owe any magic to the Goblin King but it was a desperate time and he needed something, especially if he was going to go through with the whole weak and puny period.

He knew only one thing for certain. The Goblin King himself would be safe from the curse. The world he lived in was entirely separated by time and space from Rumpelstiltskin’s world. He’d never have to carry this burden and could go on with his life as much as he’d like.

“Welcome to my humble abode, dearie. So good to see you. I have a favor to ask the Goblins. I need an illusion – a very powerful one, powerful enough to bring me the happiest moment I could possibly ever want. What is the price for this illusion lasting one evening?” 

Rumpelstiltskin did his best to keep the nonchalant smirk on his face even when the Goblin came closer and tousled his hair, he did his very best not to back away. Who is the monster now? He would always ask himself whenever the Goblins paid him a visit.

“You want this illusion … for yourself?” A sickening grin full of lechery appeared on the mangled face. “Why?”

It did no good to lie to a Goblin, they always knew the truth no matter how you sliced it. Some said they could hear all the words you never said and wanted to say and didn’t want to be heard. Rumpelstiltskin used this particular power to his advantage and it was one of the reasons that he was so good at tiptoeing around the truth himself but always able to spot a lie. 

“I am lonely. I’ve had a bit of the foresight to see I’ll be imprisoned soon. My magic will be ripped from me and I don’t want to leave this world without ultimate fantasy and indulgences. Surely you can’t begrudge an old man his ... vices?” Rumpelstiltskin giggled at his own wit, old man, compared to the Goblins he knew, he was probably a toddler dribbling down his own chin.

The Goblin cackled along with him. “This is too perfect,” she cooed. “Jareth will love to hear about this.” Before Rumpelstiltskin could grab the little Goblin woman’s cloak, she popped out of his presence. 

Damn it, damn it!

Rumpelstiltskin roared alone in his room. The silence was deafening after the shattered lamp finished crashing to the floor. 

“Rumpy, Rumpy, you really mustn’t treat your possessions with such distaste.” Rumpelstiltskin turned around to see Jareth had appeared in front of his windows, hands on hips, long flowing white-blonde hair and his stunning eyes gleaming in the moonlight. “So, what’s this I hear about fulfilling your sinful heart with joy?”

Rumpelstiltskin only barely got away with a small smirk across his face. “It’s really not necessary to have your direct involvement Jareth, I’m sure one of your lower class demonic spawn can help out.”

Jareth smiled genuinely. “Rumpy, you are our greatest asset and we always take care of our own. You have but to ask,” and he made a big sweeping bow.

And at what a price indeed, owing another favor to the Goblin King? Must be my lucky day…

“As you wish,” Rumpelstiltskin made a low bow to the man who had provided him with his power. “I have seen my fate, dearie. Not my end exactly, that is always fluid, but I’ve seen enough to know I’ll be suffering for quite some time and,” he swallowed, mouth suddenly gone dry with need and wariness. “And I want a night of illusions in ultimate pleasures, something so complete, I can taste, hear, see, touch… and well, I have needs that should be met rather soon.” His weight shifted onto his other foot uncomfortably trying to hide the bulge in his trousers. Rumpelstiltskin thanked the heavens he was wearing quite a few layers.

“I see,” Jareth paced ever so slightly, his thick boots clumping on the floorboards. “And what is it you’d like of my magic, Dark One?” He chuckled to himself amused at his little joke.

Jareth was the original Dark One from so many years ago who people said was so cruel that the knife never even wounded him. It was said that he just agreed to share his power with others by enchanting the knife and sending it off into the world to be passed down from Dark One to Dark One while he remained keeper of real dark power.

Jareth let himself laugh a bit and clapped his hands together, “Rumpy, Rumpy, you wound me that you think I wouldn’t take care of this personally.”

Rumpelstiltskin seemed to hear sincerity in his voice for the first time since he appeared. “I beg forgiveness, dearie, I meant no slight.”

“There’s nothing to forgive. Alright, here is your pleasure.” Jareth brought out one of his clear crystals and tossed it to Rumpelstiltskin who caught it deftly.

Rumpelstiltskin looked at him wearily. “Just like that, Jareth? And as for the price?”

Jareth smiled at him thoughtfully. “There’s a young girl in rags who is about to get a visit from you. You will give her what she needs to go to a ball where she will meet a prince and fall in love. I’d like you to make her a deal and in exchange for her dress and shoes and carriage, you will take her first born daughter and give her to me.” Jareth’s eyes lit up.

“Another Goblin, Jareth – don’t you have enough children?” But Rumpelstiltskin already could see it happen in his second sight, that would be the falsehood that would end with him in a dungeon and set into motion the curse for which he would find Bae… How amazingly complex, it’s as if I planned it myself! “That’s a deal!”

“It will only work when your at your lowest point, so I don’t recommend carrying it around fairly often otherwise you might get transported to Illusia without really meaning to." Rumpelstiltskin immediately placed it down on his nightstand. "You will first experience decadent foods, the likes you’ve never had before followed by wines and spirits to make your wits relaxed and open. Only then will I send you your hearts desire and who or whatever, they will tend to your needs thoroughly and immediately.”

Jareth smiled at Rumpelstiltskin like a proud father. “I hope you come back to me when your magic returns and regal me with what I’m sure is to be a delightful tale.”

Rumpelstiltskin clapped him on the back with a giggle and thanked him for his personal touch on this rather delicate request. Maybe Jareth wasn’t as pompous and stuck up and Rumpelstiltskin always thought he was.

Jareth caressed him with a fond embrace. “I would like to see you before you go, Rumpy. If it’s possible, of course.”

“Of course, dearie.” Rumpelstiltskin said into the folds of Jareth’s coat. It had been so long since he’d actually embraced anyone he lingered for a long moment and Jareth let him.

Jareth coaxed him back a little so he could look into his eyes. “I don’t have to leave just yet, if you’d like a little company before bed.”

For a whole second, Rumpelstiltskin considered saying no. That Jareth was too cruel to allow one more moment than he was meant to be anywhere, too fond of torture and destruction. But then Jareth placed a hand over his to bring it to his own face and kiss his palm and quite suddenly, Rumpelstiltskin was having a hard time telling him no.

“I wouldn’t…” 

He tried again – 

“I wouldn’t refuse the Goblin King of anything, you know that.”

Jareth smiled crookedly at him and kissed him abruptly. Rumplestiltskin responded to the kiss, hungrily and without restraint. Had it really been so long? He asked himself. Here he was, scaled mouth and hands grabbing at Jareth, a porcelain god, and he was so utterly lost in the sensation that his legs nearly gave out from under him.

Jareth whisked him up into his arms, letting the kiss continue for as long as they could manage it. Rumpelstiltskin's breathing was ragged and dyer but he tried to follow Jareth’s lead as much as possible.

They’re clothes were suddenly gone. Neither one had really taken anything off but perhaps the magic in them both understood their needs and did the dirty work for them. 

Jareth gently laid him down upon the bed, pressing his chest down so that Rumpelstiltskin's back would arch, moving as close to Jareth's body to touch him as it could. Slowly and carefully, Jareth began to kiss Rumpelstiltskin in a line moving down, which starting at this mouth and lingered along his jaw line. Jareth stopped only to nuzzle and bite at Rumpelstiltskin’s adam’s apple. Rumpelstiltskin cried out but stayed as motionless as possible. Jareth smirked into his neck, scratching and clawing at his chest with need. Jareth continued his path downward and Rumplestiltskin slowly began to plead with him, he could feel where the Goblin King was going as his excruciatingly slow probing tongue worked its way past his navel. He yelped and pleaded for more. 

Jareth was not a gentle lover as he grabbed Rumpelstiltskin’s hips and planted teeth marks deep into his flesh with sucking and biting sounds. The scales of Rumpelstiltskin’s armor was brittle under the weight of the Goblin King. Jareth finally reached his cock with a hot breath to it’s head. It jumped at him and he grabbed it in response. 

“Rumpy, Rumpy,” he spoke into his loins, grabbing and groping for his pleasured captives release. Finally taking his cock into his mouth and playing with his balls, tugging at them and rolling them between his thumb and forefinger, he slowly massaged them until Rumplestiltskin released his seed into his mouth.

“Over so quickly? You do so need a vacation,” Jareth smirked down at his handy work.

“I’m… I should have warned you…” Rumpelstiltskin said through shaky breaths. “I hope… I’m sorry,” Jareth shushed him and pulled Rumpelstiltskin up to his face for a salty kiss. Jareth tasted like him, it was so strange to taste himself on the Goblin Kings lips. “Do you want… Should I…” Jareth kissed him again silencing him and held him for a time.

Rumpelstiltskin held Jareth back with all his might. “Thank you for this, it was nice to be apart of something real, to know this exists before the illusion gives me its last goodbyes.”

Jareth smiled and broke the hug to smirk at him. “Rumpy, I hope you know there are people who love you. Truly love you for all of what you are. Good luck, my friend.”

Rumpelstiltskin felt stunned and shocked by Jareth's words. He couldn't fully understand how anyone who knew him could love him. Especially such dark creatures as Goblins. His wife and son also loved him once and he thought with a bitter pill that all he ever does with anyone's love is destroy it. He laid back on the bed, unable to respond without weeping.

Jareth stood and turned into an owl to fly off into the night. Rumpelstiltskin hugged his pillow, as he always did these days, and fell asleep for the first real good sleep in months.


End file.
